


John Watson the slave, Sherlock Holmes the master

by Rosie302



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Slavery, Anal Sex, Flogging, Johnlock - Freeform, M/M, MasterSherlock, Mind Control, OOC Mycroft - Freeform, OOC Sherlock, Oral Sex, Pain, Punishment, Smut, made up characters - Freeform, slavejohn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-28
Updated: 2018-01-03
Packaged: 2018-04-28 15:06:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 23,879
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5095145
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rosie302/pseuds/Rosie302
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John joins the army to save his sister Harry from becoming a slave due to being in debt and being a drug addict. He is promised by Mycroft that Harry will be looked after if he joins the army and dies for his country. He gets shot in the shoulder and because of the injury can no longer work in the army. Mycroft gives him an ultimatum, to become a slave for life or the help for Harry will be withdrawn and she will become a slave instead. John chooses to be a slave and is given one of the new collars which is a surgical implant into his brain which would be fatal if it is removed but is also given a normal metal collar so people know he is a slave. He is given to Mycrofts merciless brother Sherlock who has never wanted a slave in case he goes to far but Mycroft decides he needs one. What will become of John?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first typed fanfiction. I have written others but they are all handwritten and only read by friends who I fear give me biased reviews. If you could give me any pointers please comment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would also like to give credit to VelvetMace and her story Collared as it is from reading that story that I got most of my inspiration. You may find mine is rather similar in places but a lot of the similarities are coincidence as I had this idea before reading it. However, if you like my story I would definitely recommend reading Collared.  
> Disclaimer- I do not own Sherlock or the characters except possible, accidental OC's.

* * *

 

I sat across the table from Mycroft trying to avoid his gaze. I should have died in the army, the fact I was shot and only injured complicated things a little. I was meant to give my life for the county in war and in return my sister Harry would be looked after and not made a slave due to her debt but now I'm not in the army, I'm useless, and now my sister is in danger of becoming what I have tried to protect her from. I knew the ultimatum was coming.

"I have two options for you John." Mycroft said, "You could return to your normal life but that would mean your sister would no longer be getting support and consequently she would become a slave,"

For the first time I looked Mycroft in the eye. He couldn't do that to Harry, he couldn't offer hope only to take it away again, I would do anything for Harry.

"The other option is of course you become a slave instead of your sister, and once again this would be for life so we would fit you with one of the permanent collars and in return your sister would be looked after and get the help she needs." Mycroft continued and looking in his eyes I knew he already knew which one I would pick.

"You already know which one I'm going to pick, you're not leaving me much option" I said looking down, my voice getting quieter and quieter, "looks like I'm... I'm... going to become a... a slave" I said my voice breaking off. "you're not going to change your mind are you?" I asked my voice barley audible.

"No, I'm not, if that's your final choice I have a number of forms for you to sign" He said.

* * *

 

I was standing in the room opposite the doctor; the door to my right opened and Mycroft walked in.

"Have you finished?" He said to the doctor.

"Almost, I'm just making sure everything works properly," The doctor replied, "Turn around John," He said and I obeyed. "So I have implanted it here you see and it connect into the brain, it can almost understand what Johns thinking. This means that when he is given an order it can understand whether he is going to obey or not. If he decides he isn't going to go do it then it will cause him pain and obviously the amount of pain it gives him depends on the severity of what he has done. Now of course his master can stop the pain or can cause the pain with just a verbal command. For example if you want to give him a small amount of pain you could say 'John- pain setting 1'" The doctor said and as soon as the words left his mouth pain spread through my body. It wasn't unbearable but it made it hard to think about anything else other than the pain. I heard the a voice say "Pain off" then seconds later I came back to my senses.

Only after the pain was shut off did I realise I was shaking holding my head in my hands.

"Amazing, but what I want to see is how bad the pain can get" Mycroft said behind me.

"Very well," I heard the doctor say, I clenched my fists and shut my eyes, I knew what was to come. "John- pain setting 10" The pain was excruciating, I lost complete control of my body. I felt the floor beneath me as I let out a blood curdling scream. My whole body was on fire, I felt as if I was drowning in the lava that consumed my body; I struggled to breath as if my head had just sunk under the oncoming torrent of pain. Then suddenly the pain stopped, I curled into a ball trying to recover but I knew I wouldn't have long to rest.

"Thank you, you really have outdone yourself," I heard Mycroft say.

"And off course if you can't be bothered to say that full sentence or you are just to angry to say it you could tell him to heel instead and it would give him the same pain as if you had said pain setting 5 but where is the fun is that. Now stand up John" I heard the doctor say but I ignored him and just curled tighter into a ball. Sharp pain spread through my limbs but quickly left not leaving me enough time to react. "This would be a good point to show you the mind control option, you simply say 'Activate control' then 'John' finally say the command so for example to make him stand up you say authoritatively 'John- stand up'" As soon as the doctor said it I lost all control of my body I stood up. I tried everything to make my body stop but it was as if I was a puppet on a string, I simply had no control, I felt helpless as if the last bit of my free will had been taken away. But I was still me and that was all that mattered! "Then when you have finished just say, 'De-activate control' and it will be as it was."

"Okay John, turn to face me," Mycroft said, "I assume you have finished?" He asked the doctor who nodded, "Okay then, follow me John" he said before walking away. I followed him out the room and along some corridors.

"What's going to happen now?" I asked quizzically.

Mycroft turned to me and glared making me look down ashamed. "First rule of being a slave, only speak when spoken to." He said before continuing down the corridor. "As it so happens I'm in a good mood so I will answer your question. We are going to to my brothers apartment." We exited the building and I noticed a black car was parked just outside. "Get in," Mycroft said harshly. The pain still fresh in my mind from the doctor I didn't dare hesitate, I got in the car and scooted over to the far side, Mycroft followed and the car started off down the road. "You are going to be my brothers slave; I know you are disappointed that you won't be serving me,"

I snorted at that before, I could help myself, and received another glare making me shift uncomfortably in my seat. "My brother needs a slave more than I do. The first thing you need to know about my brother is that he has never had a slave. He doesn't trust himself with one because he tends to get a bit carried away with things but I'm sure you will do fine," he said smiling at me. The smile looked so forced it morphed his face into something that no longer looked human. "Just because he has never had a slave don't think you can get away with things, about a week ago I spoke to him and taught him how to treat a slave."

I was starting to get worried, what if this man gets carried away and kills me? What if he is mean? What if I have to do his laundry?

"Anyway I'm sure he will teach you how to act. Anyway your duties will probably include cleaning, cooking, maybe sex, then anything else he asks you to do. A little advise, just stay out of his way, he likes his privacy and as soon someone invades it he gets cranky, the same happens if someone doesn't do as he says so bear that in mind." Mycroft finished his little speech then turned away from me. Evidently Mycroft was finished talking.

We drove for another half an hour before we finally pulled up in front of 221B Baker Street. Mycroft got out the car and walked towards the door, he obviously wanted me to follow so I got out the car and stood behind him. The door was black with a door knocker that was crooked and 221B above it in gold letters and numbers. He banged on the door with the knocker and straightened it at the same time. A moment later an old woman answered the door.

"Oh Mycroft, its great to see..." She started.

"Not now Mrs Hudson," Mycroft said cutting her off and walking in. I followed up the stairs and he stopped outside a door.

"You know you should really call before coming over. I also let you in, the least you could do is thank me" She said calling after us.

Mycroft turned around to face her and gave her the same inhuman look, which appeared to be a smile, that he gave me. "Your right, I'm sorry, thank you for letting me in," he said then turned back around and opened the door in front of him, his smile dropping. "Hello, brother mine," he said, the person in the room didn't reply.

Mycroft strode into the room and I followed shutting the door behind me. A man with curly brown hair was laid on the sofa eyes closed with his hands together under his chin as if he was preying.

"Go away," The man said stubbornly.

"Sherlock, this is your slave John..." Mycroft started but then was cut off.

"Yes, yes I know. Thank you for stating the obvious. When I said go away I was talking only to you, not to the slave. Leave him and go." Sherlock said bluntly.

"I am well aware of whom you were speaking to Sherlock," Mycroft said to his brother who didn't move.

"Then why are you still here," He said, "Unless you are about to tell me you really need my help with something and by the way the answer would be no," He stood up and walked past Mycroft to the door. "No? Then bye bye." He continued opening the door and turning to Mycroft.

Mycroft walked over to him and handed him a booklet, "Wouldn't want you to break him." He said before leaving.

Sherlock slammed the door after him and turned to me.

"Afghanistan or Iraq?" Sherlock asked me blankly.

"W-w-what?" I said momentarily shook. "Afghanistan, how did you...?" I said trailing off.

"Your haircut says military, of course that could be just a preference if it weren't for your tan. Stops at the wrists and around the collar so not sunbathing, no one would sunbathe in a shirt or say a military uniform. Then there is the way you hold yourself, proud but with that thousand mile stare that only someone who was or is in the military would have. There are only two places were the army have been sent recently that could have caused that sort of tan. Hence the question Afghanistan or Iraq." Sherlock said quickly and sharply before turning away.

"Amazing," I said absent mindedly.

"Now go make yourself useful while I read this," Sherlock said waving the booklet Mycroft gave him then turned and walked out the room into what I assumed to be his bedroom.

I looked around to see where I could start; there was a lot to do. The living room was a tip, there was barley enough space to walk,and the kitchen looked like a bin, smelt like one as well. I decided the kitchen was the most important and walked over to it.

"Best make a start" I murmured to myself.

* * *

 

About an hour later I heard the door to Sherlock's bedroom open and looked over to see the man himself striding out.

I looked around and was impressed at what I had done given the time I had done it in. Most of the surfaces had been cleaned of rubbish leaving only dirty plates and several black bags on the floor. The table in the middle of the room still had some rubbish and dirty plates on it but that would only take a minuet to sort out.

"John, catch," Sherlock said throwing something silver to me. It was a silver collar and on the back of it by the latch was a key hole and next to that a little silver hoop as if something was meant to clip on there. "Put it on," He said walking past me to sit in one of his chairs in the living room.

I snapped the thing around my neck and was about to continue tidying up when Sherlock called, "Come here," I turned and walked to him. "I assume, being a new slave, you don't know how to act." He said looking up at me.

"No, other that I should only speak when spoken to and I should do everything you say. Your brother said you would elaborate." I told him wondering what else there was.

"Okay well when I'm sat down if you are finished what you are doing and have free time you kneel on the ground next to me, don't forget to have a strait posture, you never use the furniture but I will allow you to sit at the table to eat. I expect you to keep the place tidy, do the dishes strait away, and to do the shopping. When it is meal time you will cook me something, unless I say otherwise, this is one of the few occasions when you may speak to me without being spoken to but only to ask what I want. Other times you may speak to me could be to clarify an order or things like that. When I eat you will stand, or if you must kneel, next to me or behind me so that if I need something you, you are there at my side. Only when I have finished eating and you have washed up can you get yourself something to eat. Are you following this John?" Sherlock asked looking at me.

"Um, yes, I think I am." I said slowly.

"Good. When we go out, if I deign to let you come, the rules don't change and you stay near me in case I need something, you must wear that collar at all times, unless I tell you otherwise, so people know you are a slave and finally you must always address me as 'master' or at the very least 'sir'. Understand?" He asked turning to face the TV turning it on.

"Yes," I said but quickly added, "sir," it's been two seconds and I'm all ready forgetting the rules. I waited a second to see if he was going to add anything, when he didn't I walked into the kitchen and continued tidying up.

After half an hour the kitchen was finished, all plates had been washed and all rubbish had been put in black bags which were on the floor. Now was as good a time as any to see if there was any food in the fridge or in the cupboards. I was expecting worse upon opening the fridge, considering the state of the kitchen I was expecting mouldy food and things well past there use by date, all I found were a few shrivelled old carrots which I promptly threw in the bin. The cupboards were a lot better containing a few cans of hot dogs but other than that there was nothing to eat. Sighing I turned and picked up the two black bags at my feet.

I was about to leave when I realised I had no idea were the bins were. I turned to Sherlock but I didn't even need to ask.

"The bins are at the bottom of the stairs out the back and just behind the fence." Sherlock said not looking at me.

"Um, thanks master," I replied and promptly left.

I walked down the stairs and immediately bumped into Mrs Hudson.

"Hello, I believe we haven't been formally introduced. I'm Mrs Hudson and you are?" She asked politely. Obviously she hadn't seen the collar yet.

"I'm John Watson," I replied not knowing what to say or how to address her. I just decided to act normal seeing as she hadn't noticed who I was yet.

"Are you a friend of Sherlock's? I heard someone was going to be moving in," She asked but then stopped and looked at my neck, just below my Adams apple, which was were the collar was resting. "Oh , I didn't realise. Mycroft left earlier so your not his, are you Sherlock's slave?" She asked. I was a little taken aback by her reaction, she was still talking to me and being polite.

"Yes, I am." I said simply.

"Oh, I didn't take Sherlock for the slave owning type, but that could be because he treats everyone like a slave. You know what, I don't think he even knows the difference between a normal person and a slave! He just treats everyone like he owns them," She continued smiling. I really didn't know how to reply. If I said I agreed with her would she tell Sherlock and make him punish me or was she simply trying to be nice?

I smiled and laughed but didn't respond hoping that would satisfy her.

"Well I better let you get on with what you are doing, I wouldn't want your master to punish you on my account." With that she left leaving me looking after her in confusion.

I shook my head and continued until I reached the bins and put the rubbish where it belonged.

Heading upstairs I looked to see if Sherlock was still in the chair but was taken aback when I saw it was empty. I looked around and located him lying on the sofa in the same position he had been in when I arrived.

I looked at the clock and was surprised to see it was 5 o'clock. I had better go to the shops and get some food.

"Master?" I said walking over to Sherlock.

"Hmm?"was all I got in response.

"I need to go to the shops to get food but I haven't any money," I continued warily.

"My wallets on the side, the pin for my debit card is 4429. I think this would be a good point to add that you are wearing a tracker so don't try to run and be back here in an hour. If you are not your collar will make you finish what you are doing and come back. I'm evidently talking about the internal collar not the one that you could easily take off. Bye bye." Sherlock said helpfully.

I didn't bother replying I just took the wallet and left.

* * *

 

55 minuets later I was running up the stairs. I was sure I was out of time, I didn't have a watch so I couldn't be sure. I burst through the door and looked at the clock. Sighing in relief I realised I still had 3 minuets left.

I dropped the shopping bags then bent over trying to catch my breath.

After I decided my heart wasn't going to explode out of my chest I grabbed the shopping again and walked into the kitchen to put the everything away.

After I was satisfied with everything I decided it was about time I took a tour of the house. I discovered a bathroom next to what I guessed was Sherlock's room and a small empty bedroom upstairs which I assumed to be were I would sleep.

"JOHN!" I heard Sherlock yell.

"Yes master?" I said racing downstairs.

"I want soup. You don't look to be the cooking type so look on my laptop over there," He said pointing, "You can search up the recipe and instructions." And then he left again walking into his room and slamming the door behind him.

He got that right, I wasn't much of a cook. I walked over to the laptop and had a look to see what I should do and at the same time I dumped Sherlock's wallet back on the table.

"Hmm, doesn't look to difficult," I said to myself then got to work.

About an hour later dinner was ready and as Sherlock had said before I stood behind him while he ate it and after he was finished and everything was tidied up I got myself some.

The food wasn't at all bad, in fact it was probably the tastiest thing I had every made.

Then I went to bed trying not to disturb Sherlock. I realised as I got to my room that I didn't have any clothes other than the ones I was wearing. Walking to the wardrobe I looked inside to see if someone had thought to give me any. I didn't expect to find anything so was surprised to see a few days worth of clothes hanging there. Smiling I thought to myself, "This might not be so bad," before collapsing on the bed and drifting off into peaceful sleep.

The next few days went smoothly. I made breakfast for Sherlock then started cleaning only stopping when he asked me for something or to make food. After about 3 days of this boring routine the house was spotless. Then things changed a little.

It was a Thursday and just after lunch Sherlock received a phone call that made him very excited.

"On my way!" He said gleefully before leaving the house. I was just about to see if there was anything left to do in the house when I heard Sherlock yell "JOHN, LET'S GO!"

I ran out the door and followed Sherlock into a cab.

I knew I should only speak when spoken to but I couldn't help myself, Sherlock looked in such a good mood. "Where are we going?" I asked tentatively.

"We are going to a crime scene!" Sherlock replied barley containing his joy.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay after this chapter it picks up a bit so please bare with me. If you have any advise, anything I can do to improve please leave a comment because I really want to improve my writing. Thanks :)

* * *

 The cab pulled up in front of a brick house surrounded by bustling police. Red and blue flashing lights from cars dominated my vision causing me to blink. You would of thought that someone had been murdered with all this attention around a random house.

"Put this on." Sherlock ordered handing me a long blue scarf that appeared seemingly out of no where and, not wanting to cause a scene, I obliged. As soon as the cab came to a stop Sherlock got out and I followed intrigued.

"NO! No, no, no. I will not let you contaminate my crime scene!" A man, with strait dark brown/black hair slightly longer than Sherlock's and face red with rage, said walking up to us with a defiant tone.

"Oh shut up Anderson, I was invited." Sherlock replied smugly pushing him aside as he headed to the house leaving the man looking after us in fury.

Before we got to there another man came striding out. "Glad you made it Sherlock, he's right inside." The new man said gesturing to the house but then paused looking at me and pointing, "One sec, who's he?"

I kept my head down and didn't reply not knowing whether I should or not seeing as the question was directed to Sherlock and not myself.

"Detective Inspector Lestrade, this is my assistant Doctor John Watson. He served in the army so I thought he might be helpful," Sherlock said confusing me but I tried to hide it; obviously he didn't want the police to know I was his slave, not that I knew why but that still doesn't explain how he knew I'm a doctor? I never told him I was an army doctor, where did he get that... It must have been from Mycroft, he would have know for sure.

"Oh, pleased to meet you," The Inspector said only half interested, "Sherlock, you have 5 minuets," then he walked off.

"Follow me John and put on the gloves on your way in," Sherlock said entering the house putting gloves on himself.

I snapped the gloves over my hands and walked into the room. It took a few moments before what I saw registered in my mind. A dead man was laid on the floor, from what I could see he seemed to be mid-thirty's with black hair. He had a knife stuck in his chest with a piece of paper attached to it. Both the man's arms where laid out above him almost as if the man where trying to mime that is was 12 o'clock but it looked so unnatural that he must have been put in that position after death; the question was why would the killer do that?

I noticed Sherlock crouching over the body with a little magnifying glass, I stayed away but within earshot in case Sherlock wanted something. About a minuet later Sherlock stood and came over to me, "Your turn Doctor what can you deduce from looking at this body,"

I gave him a quizzical look, why is he treating me like a friend?

Sherlock sighed, "Just do it, I will explain in the car."

I nodded once and moved to crouch next to the body it was only then I could read the note, 'CNDHSTODMOTOMFELICEIMMCKANREK.' What the hell did that mean?

After performing a few checks on the body I turned to Sherlock and said, "Well I would say he was mid-thirty's judging by his hair colour and how he looks, um... it looks as if his killer was a professional one strike to the heart and the man died then once he was dead the killer put him like this." I looked to Sherlock expectantly then to the other police officers on the scene, Lestrade was standing at the back watching over everything.

"Well done, of course you missed everything of significance but aside from that good," Sherlock said smugly, "You were right, his killer was a professional and he didn't kill him here, there isn't enough blood, so he was dragged to this location. That would explain why his arms are like they are but they have been placed completely straight if the killer had just dragged him here and nothing more then the arms would be slightly bent from when he dropped them but no he placed them the way they are, probably as a message. We don't need to find out anything about him, his killer didn't even know him. But I can see everyone wants to know who he is so, he is a pianist who performs at restaurants and things like that, you can tell be his hands, he has long fingers and the starting of arthritis in his thumbs also in his pockets are several leaflets with his name on directing people to restaurants around here and that's not even mentioning the suit. He is single but really wants a girlfriend, going by his phone, watch and shoes all aimed to impress people, mainly girls. Oh and his name is Jeffrey Carmichael, it says on the leaflets."

"Amazing," I said under my breath but Sherlock seemed not to hear.

"Okay but what about the note?" Lestrade said walking over.

"Its addressed to me, it says, 'Come and find me Mr Holmes. Tick tock.' So evidently he will kill again." Sherlock said looking jubilant. "This is fantastic, its like its Christmas!"

"How could you possibly know that about the note?" I said before I could help myself.

If looks could kill I would be lying on the floor next to the dead body with the look Sherlock gave me but for some reason he replied, "There are 29 letters, if you make a five by five grid but with four spaces to the side going down for the spare letters and then place these letters going across then read it going down the columns it makes a sentence." Then he looked to Lestrade, "Are you saying no one saw that?"

"No, I don't even know how you saw that Sherlock," He replied looking annoyed.

"Dear God, what is it like in your funny little brains? It must be so boring." Sherlock said looking around at us befuddled.

"Hmm anyway Sherlock your five minuets is up, thank you for your input," The Inspector said then walked away to talk to Anderson who was standing in a corner probably making sure we don't contaminate the evidence.

"Follow me John," Sherlock ordered and walked out the room.

We headed to the main road but got stopped by a woman with long curly brown hair who was looking at Sherlock in contempt.

"Well, well, if it isn't the freak. Who's this, are you paying someone to follow you around so you don't seem like such a supercilious jerk?" The woman said looking mildly amused by her own comment.

"Hello, Sergeant Donovan, that's a big word are you sure you know how to use it? Anyway no this is my colleague Doctor John Watson now if you don't mind I have a case to solve," He replied walking past her to the main road.

We hailed a cab and left for home.

"Give me the scarf," Sherlock ordered, I had almost forgotten I was wearing it.

I gave it back to him then feeling brave I decided to ask, "Why did you call me your assistant?"

"You seem to have forgotten the rules already, speak only when spoken to, but I will answer your question. I didn't want the police to know I had a slave. If they found out they could order you to do stuff and you would have no choice because the police have ultimate control over slaves purely for the reason that if I ordered you to break the law they could stop you. Anyway they would be able to use you and I don't want that because you are mine," Sherlock said then threw gritted teeth added, "I own you,"

After Sherlock finished I remained silent. I didn't want any trouble, I had to be good for Harry's sake.

* * *

 When we arrived back at the apartment the first thing Sherlock did was go and lie down on the sofa hands together under his chin in his thinking position; at least that is what I assumed it was considering that he does it all the time. He didn't give me any orders so I started cleaning, not that there was much to clean, knowing the other option was to kneel on the floor next to Sherlock.

The whole time I couldn't get the murder off my mind, I got so distracted by it that I lost track of time, the only thing that snapped me out of my thoughts was Sherlock's voice from the sofa.

"I won't be having dinner so feel free to get yourself something." Sherlock said.

I looked over at him, his eyes were still shut and it looked like he hadn't moved. I looked over at the clock and was taken aback by the time. It was already 8 o'clock, why won't Sherlock eat? In the end I decided it wasn't my place to ask and went into the kitchen to make myself some food but before I could Sherlock's phone went of. I turned to look at Sherlock who hadn't moved.

"John, my phone." Sherlock demanded.

I looked around, "Where..."

"My pocket," Sherlock said without moving. Sighing I walked over, got it out his breast pocket and put it in his hand.

"Molly," Sherlock said answering the phone, "Okay I will be right there," then he hung up the phone. He stood up and grabbed his coat, "John, come with me."

* * *

 We arrived at Bart's about 10 minuets later.

"What are we doing here?" I asked.

"John, pain setting 1," Sherlock said looking at me annoyed.

I wasn't expecting the pain so when it hit me it almost knocked me off my feet. I doubled over in pain as it consumed my every thought. My head in my hands I tried to control it remembering my military training. Deep breaths and I tried to think of Harry, I was doing this for Harry.

"Pain off," I heard Sherlock say before the torture stopped. I stood up straight but kept my head down, I couldn't stop shaking. I can't believe I let that happen, I had actually started to believe Sherlock was my friend.

"You keep forgetting the rules John, don't do it again. Follow me." He said emotionless.

"Yes Master," I quietly replied chastised then followed him inside.

We walked along a few corridors then entered a mortuary where a short mousy haired woman was stood next to the body of Jeffrey Carmichael.

"Hello Sherlock," She said smiling walking over to us, "How are you?" She asked but didn't get a reply.

"What have you found out Molly?" Sherlock asked blanking her completely. Molly looked slightly upset but walked back over to the body.

"It was the knife that killed him but I ran a few tests anyway and they show he was unconscious when he was killed, there wasn't as much blood loss as there should have been so I looked to see what he had eaten or drank and found nothing so I checked around his face. I found traces of chloroform around his mouth and nose which would explain why this wound made by the knife is very clean, there wasn't any fight because our victim was unconscious. Oh and I worked out the time of death was at about 12 o'clock, give or take an hour."

"Thank you Molly, do you mind if I run a few tests myself?" Sherlock asked but I knew it was rhetorical because Sherlock was already getting started.

"Sure," Molly said quietly. It was only then she seemed to notice me, "Hello, I'm Molly, are you a friend of Sherlock's or something?" She asked.

I looked to Sherlock unsure what to say but he seemed to be to preoccupied with his work to notice. In the end I decided on the truth seeing as Sherlock hadn't told me to hide my collar this time and Molly wasn't the police. I lifted my hand and pointed to my collar so it was unmistakable and looked at Molly to see her reaction.

"You're Sherlock's... slave," She stated, "Hmm, I didn't think he was that sort of person." She said quietly under her breath looking slightly disappointed and upset at the news.

I decided to defend Sherlock seeing as it hadn't been his idea, "I'm John and master didn't want a slave, I was a none returnable present from his brother, so here I am." I said and that put Molly at ease.

"I suppose then that you should go and stand near Sherlock in case he needs something," Molly said before walking away.

* * *

 We arrived back home at about 9:30 and the first thing I did upon entering the apartment was make myself a few slices of toast.

"Once you have eaten you may go to bed; I will be staying up for a while," Sherlock said before going to his laptop.

I did as he said then disappeared into my small dark desolate room and went to sleep.

* * *

 It seemed like only minuets later that my alarm went off. When I was out yesterday morning I decided to get one to make sure I was awake to make breakfast.

The first half of the day went smoothly enough, there were a few phone calls about the case and Sherlock had to leave the apartment a few times. I didn't get invited to come so I spent the time talking to Mrs Hudson who didn't seem to care that I was a slave, she even gave me some help with the tidying which suited me because it gave me some pleasant company.

Then at 4 o'clock Sherlock got another phone call from Detective Inspector Lestrade.

"On my way," Sherlock said to him through the phone then hung up. "Come John, there is another one," Sherlock said leaving the apartment, "Don't forget to grab a scarf!" Sherlock yell back to me. I grabbed the blue scarf by the door then left following Sherlock.

Once again we made our way to the crime scene and when we got there it seemed just like the last one. Loads of police surrounding a brick house with the disorientating red and blue flashing lights coming from the tops of police cars. How do they deal with this everyday?

We headed into the house and we were met by another dead body very similar to the last. Mid thirties in age with dark brown hair, a knife stabbed into the chest with a note attached that said 'MMRWIKRERTSIHSYITNOHNMIGLUOEC', and his arms displayed in a strange fashion almost as if he where miming the time 3 o'clock. There were a few differences such as more stab wounds as if the killer had killed in a rage and the man had cuts and bruises on his face and knuckles.

Once again Sherlock examined the body then called me over to take a look. I tried harder this time to notice things but there wasn't much to see. In the end I turned to Sherlock and said, "It's very similar to the last murder, he wasn't killed here so as you said last time he must have been dragged here then his arms put like this as a sign. Could it be the time of death because the last one was killed at around 12 o'clock and that's where his arms where placed. Anyway this murder doesn't look as professional this man was obviously in a fight just before he died but I don't see what that could mean. Once again it defiantly was the knife that killed him, but I have no idea what that note means," With that I stood up and looked at Sherlock proud of myself.

"Oh don't look so proud of yourself John, it doesn't suit you, but well done. You are getting better but once again you see but do not observe." Sherlock said then turned to the body, "Not being killed here is obvious, even Anderson could see that," When Sherlock said that I saw Anderson at the back step forward to say something but was pulled beck by Lestrade, "and yes his arms probably symbolise the time he was killed. Now this is where you started getting things wrong, it doesn't look professional for a reason, the violence of the death shows this man was enemy's with his killer. They got in a fight and then he was stabbed but the thing that shows they were enemy's is how this man was killed. His killer got carried away, the first stab was straight to the heart the the man died immediately, these other wounds from the knife where caused purely because his killer was in a rage. The note in case you are wondering is addressed to me again and says 'Mr Holmes hurry now time is ticking,' and you work it out the same as the last one so please refrain from asking me how I know I worked it out." He said looking to the Inspector then added, "the killer plans to kill two more times, tomorrow at 6 o'clock then the next day at 9 o'clock, anyway I have things to do and places to be," Sherlock said concluding his little speech then left.

Sighing I followed him out to the main road. A few minuets later a cab pulled up and Sherlock got in, I was about to follow when he said, "Mycroft wants to speak to you, get in the black car," Then he slammed the door and the cab left. I turned around and looked for a black car but there wasn't one in sight.

"So John, how did you meet Sherlock?" A voice said behind me. Startled I turned around to see Sergeant Donovan standing behind me hands on her hips.

I had to think, I couldn't tell her I was his slave, "Um, well, I graduated from Bart's and when I got back from Afghanistan I went there to see an old friend, Mike Stamford. That's where I met Sherlock," I said mentally crossing my fingers and hoping it was believable.

"Well, just a word of advise, stay away from Sherlock Holmes. Do you know why he comes here? He is a psychopath this is what he gets off on and one of these days finding the killer won't be enough. One of these days we will be standing over a body and it will be him that put it there." She said startling me then left.

I stood there thinking, would Sherlock do that, it doesn't matter whether he would or not because either way it was impossible for me to leave.

I turned and looked at the road and just as I did a black car pulled up. I gave an exasperated sigh bringing my hand up to my head, what did Mycroft want? I walked over to the car and got in but was surprised to see it wasn't Mycroft sitting next to me. It was a woman with long brown hair a thin face and long fingers holding a blackberry typing furiously. As I got in she didn't move, it was almost as if she was oblivious to the world.

The car started forward and I leaned back in my seat, this couldn't be good.

* * *

 About half an hour later we pulled up in front of a dark, desolate factory that seemed it would fall apart any moment. The only thought in my head at this moment was, why here? The woman got out of the car and I followed assuming she would take my to Mycroft.

We entered the building and walked along a few dark, miserable corridors and then the woman stopped abruptly.

"He is through there," She said before turning around and going back the way we came.

I took a deep breath and entered the room. It was large filled with crates, large and small, and in the centre of the room stood Mycroft behind a table.

"John, come here and take a seat," He ordered sitting down himself.

I walked over and sat at the table slightly apprehensive, "What's this about?" I asked looking at Mycroft.

He didn't reply he just stared at me until I realised what I did then looked down uncomfortable and said, "Sorry Sir,"

"I called you here because I thought you have a right to know," Mycroft said looking at me emotionless, "Your sister is dead, she died from drug overdose,"


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapter took a while, I wrote the others during my holiday but now I can only write and publish on the weekends; sorry for the inconvenience. I have tried to bare the tips in the comments section in mind while I write but I can get a little carried away and forget but I am trying and if there is anything else you can say that will help please leave a comment. Thanks :)

* * *

I sat there for a moment trying to take it in, Harry couldn't be dead, my sister was the only reason I was putting myself through this. My first emotion was grief but then it very quickly got replaced with rage, anger and hatred. Mycroft said she would be looked after, he lied.

"HOW COULD YOU LET THIS HAPPEN!" I yelled slamming my fists on the desk and standing up, "YOU SAID YOU WOULD PROTECT HER!"

"Heel John," Mycroft said after my outburst.

I collapsed to the ground from the shock and my rage quickly dissipated into nothingness; in the pain I realised I wasn't really angry at Mycroft, I was angry at myself for trusting him. Those were the only thoughts going through my head other then how bad the pain was. I refrained from screaming but I couldn't help from writhing on the floor in agony as it consumed my entire being. It was only after a minuet did I realise Mycroft had said, "Pain off," It was almost as if it hadn't registered in my head but when it did I was confused if Mycroft had stopped the pain why was I still feeling it. Then I realised the pain wasn't coming from the collar, it was coming from my own thoughts, I was torturing myself.

After I realised this I managed to control myself and come back to my senses. I looked up and saw Mycroft towering over me hands behind his back. "Please come and sit back down we have a lot to talk about," He said before walking back to the table and taking a seat.

After I was sure I could stand I went and walked over to him and took a seat. If Harry was dead what would become of me?

"Thank you, anyway as I was saying, your sister is dead but that leaves us with a little problem. What do we do with you? Well the answer is simple, you remain a slave. There was nothing in the contract that says anything about if your sister dies. Now because you signed up for this for life it means there is little I can do for you. You will remain Sherlock's slave" Mycroft looked me straight in the eyes and for the first time it wasn't just his cold heart I saw. I saw compassion, he really did care. He didn't care much but the feeling was there.

"Are you sure there is no other..." My voice broke, I couldn't continue.

Mycroft seemed to understand what I was asking because a moment later he said, "Even if there was some loop hole that would allow me to set you free I wouldn't be able to remove that collar that is embedded in your brain. I'm afraid you signed up for this for life and now you have to live with the consequences."

"But how could Harry die, I did everything you asked." I asked Mycroft confused.

"She was doing well but then she slipped out a window in the bathroom and was found the next day dead, we did everything we could but it wasn't our fault. There are only two people you can blame for this, Harry and yourself. Now if you would kindly show yourself out the car is waiting. Don't try to run on the way back to Baker Street, if you decide to then your collar will give you pain until you decide to go back home. Good bye," Mycroft said with a forced smile then turned away and left.

I took him on his word that I couldn't run away. What was the point anyway, I had no where to go. I walked slowly to the car and within half an hour I was at the apartment. I walked inside and was met by Mrs Hudson.

"Oh hello John, I was wondering where you were. What's wrong?" She asked walking over to me concerned.

"My... my sister... Harry... she's dead." I stuttered emotionally, then went upstairs before Mrs Hudson could reply.

When I entered the apartment I was surprised by the time, it was almost 7 o'clock, it hadn't felt like much time had passed. I looked around the flat to find Sherlock but he was no where in sight. In the end I decided to get some sleep, I didn't care that I hadn't been given permission, I didn't care that I should stay up to make Sherlock dinner, none of that mattered any more! From now on I was going to fight this enslavement with all of my being. I went up to my room and fell asleep immediately on the bed, tomorrow would be a long painful day.

* * *

 

I woke up to the sound my alarm the next morning, throwing my legs over the side of the bed I got up and got dressed. Slowly the memory of yesterday came back to me and the realisation that my sister was dead hit me like a bullet.

I went downstairs to find that Sherlock was already up and about pacing back and forth across the room. "John, I'm close, I really am close to finding the killer now." He said not looking at me.

"Hmm, good for you." I said miserably and, even though I knew it was against the rules, I threw myself into one of the arm chairs and put my head in my hands. The rules didn't matter any more, I wasn't going to follow them.

Sherlock turned to me annoyed, "You are forgetting the rules John, get out the chair," he ordered staring at me.

"No," I said, the words had barely left my lips when the pain started. I shuddered and brought my knees up to my chest, I wasn't getting up.

"John, get out the chair," Sherlock said again but I didn't move, the pain got worse.

I was shaking violently by this point but I curled myself into a tight ball and endure it, I couldn't let Sherlock see how bad the pain was. I couldn't speak, I knew if I opened my mouth I would cry out or tell him to stop and I wasn't going to beg so I remained silent.

"Pain off, activate control," As soon as the pain shut off I looked at Sherlock who seemed furious. "John, get up." Sherlock ordered, I barely had a chance to register what was happening, I found myself standing up and getting of the chair. So much for not moving.

"I will pretend this never happened, I need to think, I don't want breakfast so do what you want just follow the rules. De-activate control" Sherlock said then walked off into his room. How was I going to defy him and the system if he was giving me my space with no orders.

I stood still for a second deciding what to do. My stomach grumbled, first thing's first, I had to eat.

* * *

After breakfast I sat on the sofa deciding what to do. The only thing I knew was that I wasn't going to follow Sherlock's rules, I was going to be so annoying that he would have to set me free. It wasn't much of a plan but it was the best I had.

I got up and went over to Sherlock's laptop, not for any reason I was just bored, and was surprised to see it wasn't password protected. Slowly a plan formed in my mind, if Sherlock wasn't near me then he couldn't order me and control me. As long as I never saw Sherlock, or Mycroft, then I would be okay but I could still be tracked. I went on the internet and searched for someone who could help; I knew a few people who left the army who were good with technology and lived nearby but who would help me. A few minuets later I had an address, how long would it be before Sherlock or Mycroft realised I had left. The only thing that still nagged at my mind was the mind control thing. If I started to run away would it make me come back here? In the end I dismissed the thought, Mycroft hadn't said anything about not being able to run once I got here. I walked over to where Sherlock's coat was hanging and grabbed a bunch of notes out of his pocket and put it away, 'Sherlock wouldn't be needing that,' I thought before grabbing my coat and scarf and left.

When I left the apartment I hailed a cab, James' apartment wasn't to far away, hopefully I could get there and get the tracker sorted before anyone noticed.

About 20 minuets later the cab pulled up in front of a block of flats that looked so worn down it looked as if no one lived there. I paid the cab driver and went inside, it only took me a few minuets to find the right apartment and a moment later a tall middle aged man with greying hair and blue eyes was standing in the doorway.

"Hey, James," I greeted trying my best to seem happy.

"Hey mate, how are you? Come on in." He said cheerfully and waved me inside. After one look around and I knew I made the right choice; the whole place was littered with pieces of technology and electronics.

"I'm not doing so great," I said looking at him.

He seemed to understand immediately that something was wrong because he directed me to the sofa and said, "What's happened?"

I breathed deeply for a moment because I knew if I spoke my voice would break. After I composed myself I looked down and said, "It's a long story James," then I told him everything. It was the first time I had really been able to speak about it.

"So now I'm stuck with this thing in my brain and I have no idea how to disable it." I concluded feeling as if a great weight had been lifted off my chest.

I looked up at James expecting him to throw me out or something but he surprised me. He looked at me in sympathy and said, "Don't worry I will try and help you even if it means I get arrested for this,"

I breathed out a sigh of relief then I let him get to work.

It was difficult, because he couldn't actually see the implant and because it was in my brain he couldn't do anything manually, but eventually after about an hour of attempting and failing he came up with an idea.

"I have it, I know what we could do!" He exclaimed then ran out the door.

This might actually work, I could be free, I closed my eyes and tried to imagine what it would be like. Being able to walk out the house without all the judging stares of passers by as they noticed my collar, being able to do what I want without being punished. Even though I had only been a slave for a little while it seemed like a life time.

'BANG' I heard the door get blown off its hinges, my eyes flung open, a moment later I was surrounded by special forces police and Mycroft who was walking up to me.

"Oh John, I really wish you hadn't done this," He said. I jumped to my feet and tried to punch him but before I could I was knocked off my feet by one of the guards.

"Activate control, John go to sleep." Mycroft said to me and a moment later I was consumed by the black nothingness of unconsciousness.

* * *

 

 

Slowly I came to, looking around I noticed I was in my room back at the apartment, what happened? I swung my legs off the bed, stood up, and went downstairs. Mycroft was sitting on a chair in the living room, Sherlock was no where in sight. Upon seeing Mycroft I suddenly remembered what happened earlier and groaned internally. Glancing at the clock I noticed it was 6:30 pm, wow I had been unconscious for hours, then I looked at him. Mycroft looked calm but it was Sherlock I was worried about, I did steal his money and run away, what would he do?

"Don't worry John, Sherlock is on his way. You see I knew what you were doing straight away but I was curious to see what Sherlock would do so I came here and waited for him to realise. Turns out Sherlock knew almost immediately, it was what he expected you to do, so we let you have a head start before coming for you. I had hoped you would try and run to some abolitionists so I could arrest some traitors at the same time, two birds with one stone I think some people call it, but Sherlock seemed to think you would try and get the tracker sorted first. Turns out he was right but that didn't stop me from hoping. Anyway, when I caught you I knocked you unconscious as you probably remember now, arrested that friend of yours, then brought you back here." He said quickly like when Sherlock when he does his deductions, then he sarcastically added, "Did you enjoy your little moment of freedom?"

I didn't reply I just stood there looking at him with hatred.

A few minuets later Sherlock came though the front door threw himself on the sofa and fell into his thinking position before saying, "Thank you, brother mine, good bye,"

"I hope Sherlock doesn't go to hard on you," Mycroft said with mock sympathy before he left leaving me alone with Sherlock.

"Sherlock..." I started but was interrupted.

"John- pain setting 10," Sherlock said calmly not looking in my direction.

The pain hit like a bomb; my back arched and I threw my head back letting out a scream before I hit the ground. My limbs betrayed me and I convulsed on the ground screaming and crying, I lost all sense of time, the pain could have been going on for days or even years for all I knew because the torture seemed to never end.

"What's going on?" I heard as though from a distance.

"Pain off," I heard Sherlock say not replying to the other voice.

Slowly the pain receded and I became aware of my surroundings; I stood up shakily and looked around to find my saviour. Mrs Hudson was standing in the hall way, her hands covering her mouth, "Oh Sherlock, why did you do that, what could John possibly of done to..." but was cut of by Sherlock jumping to his feet.

"Mrs Hudson, shouldn't you be making tea or something?" Sherlock said looking to her.

"Fine but keep the noise down!" She said leaving crossly muttering to herself.

Sherlock turned his gaze to me, "John, this is your last chance. I know your sister has recently died and, according to Wikipedia, people can do strange even rebellious things when they feel they have nothing to lose" he started, looking as if he didn't believe one word of what he was saying, "So I will let you off this once, also I'm busy I have a case to solve. Trust me, you wouldn't be getting away with this if I was bored. Now make yourself useful and..."

The phone rang cutting Sherlock off, "Where?" he asked quickly then hung up and headed to the door, "Come on John."

I followed him, still shaking, out the door grabbing my coat and scarf for the second time today on my way out, time to see another dead body.

* * *

We entered the old decrepit room filled full of police, and Anderson.

"Okay everyone out please!" Sherlock yelled, "I can't bare being in such a busy room. It makes for far too much stupid at once." He said, it would have made me laugh if it wasn't for the fact I was having a very bad day.

Most the officers left leaving only Sherlock, Anderson, Lestrade, and myself in the room.

"That includes you too Anderson," Sherlock added disdainfully. Anderson shot Sherlock a look of hatred, his eyebrows coming together and his lips pressing tight together to form a single straight thin line, before striding out the room angrily.

"Okay what have you got, we need to catch this killer!" Lestrade said desperately looking at Sherlock.

"Haven't you noticed the pattern?" Sherlock said impatiently, "There was no need for me to even be here; you could have sent me a picture of the note to decipher which by the way says 'I'm getting bored now Sherlock' and I could have told you where and when to go to catch our killer."

I looked at the body to try to find the pattern Sherlock was talking about but couldn't see one. The body was laid on the floor like the others with its arms in awkward positioned. One arm was above his head the other by his side so it looked like he was saying 6 o'clock. He had a knife threw his heart with a note attached that said 'ITBNEMTOORGIRWLENESOCTGDHK' and he had a similar complexion to the other victims.

"No, unless you mean the way he is laid out because they all have had a knife stabbed threw there heart and their arms are laid out strangely." Lestrade said looking puzzled.

"Yes the arms tell us when this person died but we all already knew that, the next killing will be at 9 o'clock tomorrow it only makes sense because first 12, then 3, now 6, but it is where they were killed that's interesting." Sherlock said excitedly, "Its the location! Oh there is nothing I like more than a compulsive serial killer who just wants to get caught. Look at a map, our killer is basically telling us where he will kill next, he is drawing a square! But anyway I haven't asked John to examine this body yet so..." He said gesturing to the body but I had, had enough.

"No," I said and walked out the room quickly. Technically it wasn't an order so it shouldn't bring me any pain and I was correct. I managed to get outside where loads of officers where standing and tried to get to the main road but before I could I heard Sherlock's voice behind me.

"JOHN- PAIN SETTING 10!" He yelled at me over the noise and once again the pain started.

I knew I wouldn't be able to get away with it but I had hoped Sherlock wouldn't do it in public in front of the police. Before the pain hit I saw both Anderson and Sergeant Donovan look at me in shock and I caught Lestrade's eye before I screamed for the second time today. My legs gave out from under me and I collapsed to the floor. The pain felt worst this time as if every single time I had been given pain in the past had been added up then dumped on me all at once. Other than that the pain was indescribable. When eventually the pain stopped I was shaking on the ground, tears flowing freely, I looked around, Sherlock looked livid but everyone else just looked shocked. It was at that point I noticed my scarf had fallen off exposing my collar. For some reason I felt more exposed than ever and I rubbed my hand against my neck, where the metal touched it, unconsciously.

"You two, a word." Lestrade said pointing to the two of us then to the building. I looked to Sherlock who just nodded then went inside. I followed, the pain too fresh in my mind to even think about rebelling again, and kept my head down to avoid all the judging stares of the police men. Once we entered the building Lestrade ordered everyone out and once again the room emptied only leaving the three of us.

"And when were you going to tell me you were a slave master?" He said angrily to Sherlock.

"Never came up in conversation I suppose," Sherlock answer slowly dragging out each syllable. I kept my eyes down cast and tried not to draw attention to myself.

"And you John, when were you going to tell me you were Sherlock's slave?" He said turning his attention to me this time.

"Master, told me not to," I said simply putting effort into the word 'Master' to show I really wasn't happy and left it to Sherlock to explain.

"Well, Sherlock, I'm sure you have a good reason but I no longer care, how did that work earlier? You simply said how much pain he should have then it happened." Lestrade questioned obviously curious then stopped Sherlock from replying, "In fact don't tell me I don't want to know, I think I have a meeting about that tomorrow anyway, is it one of those new bloody internal collars" He said dismissively, I just nodded. "Okay then, off you go, we will send out patrols to the houses in the area you mentioned and catch the killer tomorrow." And with that he left leaving me alone with Sherlock.

"Come John, give me the scarf there is no point in it now, we need to get back to the apartment." Sherlock said walking out the room and I followed submissively handing him the scarf.

As we left the police fell silent again for a second then the noise started up as if nothing happened.

"Well, well, I didn't think I would see the day when Sherlock Holmes got a slave." Sergeant Donovan said nastily appearing apparently out of no where. "I told John he should stay away from you but I guess he doesn't have a choice, oh well." She continued looking at Sherlock with utter hatred. Sherlock kept walking and eventually we got to a main road, hailed a cab, and left.

I knew all the way home that there was more punishment awaiting me and it made me shiver. I didn't want it to happen but I could see no way of avoiding it. The only thought that settled my mind was that Sherlock had never punished me that bad before so maybe he cared. Just maybe he cared enough not to go to far. I turned to Sherlock and saw his blank expression, I wasn't going to get much information from looking at him, so I turned to face the window and tried not to think about what would happen when we got back to the apartment. I had to escape again surely I can come up with a better plan.

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay this chapter is a little violent so just be warned (this is the bit I enjoy writing).  
> Once again if you have any advice constructive criticism is welcome. :)  
> Sorry this chapter is a little short I have been busy with my GCSE mocks but even if I uploaded this months ago it would still be this short because if I where to continue I would be going into the next chapter and that makes my life harder. Hope you enjoy it.

* * *

 

The cab pulled up in front of 221B and an icy coldness spread through my body as I felt the blood drain from my face. I knew more punishment was coming I just didn't know what. That thought alone made my muscles stiff and unmovable, as hard as I tried I couldn't get my body to obey what it needed to do. I had to get out the car or the punishment would be worse but still I couldn't move. I was filled with dread, I didn't know what punishment awaited me inside and I wasn't anxious to find out.

 Eventually I managed to get out the cab and walk inside. I felt myself switch onto auto pilot and I became unaware of my surrounding and as a consequence of this I found myself inside the apartment, in the living room, with no recollection of how I got there. I looked around for Sherlock and he was no where in sight. Walking further into the apartment I noticed Sherlock walk out the bathroom and come over to me.

 "Stay here John, I have to go out, I will be back soon and I will punish you then." Sherlock said striding past me and out the door. I stayed looking after him for a few minuets then decided to get some sleep. I would need my strength for whatever Sherlock had planned. I walked to my bedroom, laid down, shut my eyes, and tried to sleep.

As much as I tried sleep wouldn't come. Ideas and thoughts tormented my mind making it impossible to clear my head enough to sleep. What would Sherlock do? Would he go too far? What would my punishment be? Ideas of the most ludicrous punishments crossed my mind making me laugh because I knew it would never happen but contrary to those thoughts where the most realistic ideas that were so terrifying it brought tears to my eyes and made the blood drain from my face making my skin as cold as ice as if the weather had betrayed me turning summer into winter making my room feel cold.

 After 30 minuets of uneventful rest I decided to go back downstairs, staying in my room was doing nothing for me. I sat down in the chair that had its back to the kitchen and rested my head in my hands. I stayed like this for what seemed like forever. The dread that filled me seemed to slow down time giving me more of a chance to think about what could happen to me. It turned seconds into minuets, minuets into hours, and hours into days. I would have been doing something to distract me but once again my body refused to more so I stayed how I was until I heard the door open and I saw Sherlock walk into the room.

 "Follow me," Sherlock ordered stiffly walking through the living room and kitchen to the bathroom not bothering to look at me or even tell me off for breaking his rule of not sitting on the furniture. I felt my body comply although I told it not to and felt my legs drag me to the room.

 Once inside Sherlock shut the door behind me and said, "Remove your shirt then stand facing the door and raise your arms above your head so your wrists are level with the manacles," Sherlock ordered in a definite voice; there was no getting out of this. I looked to the door to see what Sherlock meant and was surprised to see steel manacles hanging from the top of the door as if it was a removable peg rack for clothes where it hooked over the top of the door lodging it between the door and the frame.

 I shut my eyes and took in a deep breath to try to calm myself, it didn't work, then with shaking fingers I undid the buttons and pulled off my shirt leaving me naked from the waist up. I walked over to the door and did as Sherlock said so my arms where raised slightly above my head ready for me to be restrained. I knew I had to remain standing or I would be in more pain due to my bullet wound from when I was in the army. Although it had healed it would hurt if I hung solely from my wrists. I felt the metal snap around my wrists and I gave them an experimental tug only to find they were very secure; there would be no escaping now.

 "Alright, you will get ten lashes from my riding crop and try to keep the noise down I would hate to get a headache." Sherlock said. I tried to turn to see him but before I could I felt Sherlock pull me away from the door so my arms where straight and my back was exposed at a slight incline to make hitting me easier.

 "I would do this with you lying down somewhere but I don't particularly want blood stains everywhere so..." He said and a moment later I heard the crop fly through the air and felt it cut into my skin. I couldn't help a groan of pain escape my lips and I leaned against the door as the hit made me weak and also to try to absorb the shock. Again and again I felt the crop slam into my skin with increasing strength so by the fifth I was crying. I felt tears stream down my face but as much as I tried to stop them they just kept flowing. When the crop hit for the seventh time I couldn't help a scream escape my lips as my knees gave out under me so only my wrists supported my weight pulling on my shoulder. Shakily I stood back up and got back into the position Sherlock put me in although I didn't stay like that for long. Each time the crop hit my knees gave out causing me to fall and scream. On the last hit my remaining strength failed, I couldn't even move my head to stop the door slamming into my nose. I stayed like that hanging by my wrists blood pouring from my broken nose making it hard to breath; even though I was breathing through my mouth the blood pouring into it from my nose meant with every breath I got a mouthful of blood.

 I heard Sherlock walk over to me and release my wrists. I didn't have the strength to stop from collapsing on the floor. I stayed where I was, my body limp and sprawled in a wet liquid on the floor. I managed to turn my head to see what I was lying in and saw red; I was lying in a shallow puddle of my own blood.

 Sherlock walked over and heaved me onto the toilet seat so I was sitting up and knew what was happening. He left a moment later leaving me alone with my thoughts. I felt hopeless and weak, I couldn't even stop the only friend I had from beating me. No, not friend, master. He owned me and could do what he wanted with me. What was the point of running, I wouldn't be able to escape anyway, I should just accept my fate and who I was. I am a slave and my purpose in life is to make my master happy.

 I stayed sitting until my strength returned and carefully got to my feet so as not to slip. I walked over to the mirror and turned to see my back. Without my years as a doctor I would have feinted but by now I was used to worse. What skin you could see was black and blue from where the crop didn't cut the skin but mainly cuts, ranging from deep to shallow, long to short, dominated my back covered in lots of blood with more dripping down onto my trousers and on to the floor. I looked in the mirror to have a closer look at my nose. By now the blood not only covered my chin but ran right the way down my chest to my trousers drenching the front in blood as well. My nose was crooked and hurt a lot. I knew I could do nothing for my back because I couldn't reach but I could deal with my nose. I lent towards the mirror to get a better view and put my fingers around below where it was broken. I braced myself for pain and clamped my teeth together. My throat already hurt from screaming and crying earlier and I didn't want to damage my voice any more then it was. I took a deep breath and sharply moved my nose into the correct position again. I heard a click as the bone moved back into position. Sharp pain spread through the area causing my vision to go black for a second but then the pain went away so it only stung slightly. I turned on the cold tap and washed the blood away from my face. I grabbed some tissue, held it to my nose and pinched the bridge as hard as I could considering it was broken then sat back down because I was starting to feel light headed from the blood loss and pain.

 I stayed sitting for maybe another half an hour until Sherlock walked in followed by a doctor, who looked in his late twenties with short blond hair and an angular shaped face so he almost resembled an elf out of lord of the rings, who immediately walked over to me and pulled me into a position to examine my back. "Too close Sherlock, too close. If you had given your slave a few more lashes or left him hanging from that door much longer he wouldn't be much use to you. Due to his shoulder wound if you had left him hanging any longer it would have damaged it enough for him to be useless for months while it recovered. Also if you had given him a few more lashes, as it seems with each lash you have given him, they increase in strength causing more of a wound making the healing process longer. Next time be more careful or at the very least work him up to longer punishments so it doesn't hurt his shoulder as much. Okay, now please leave while I stitch and bandage your slave up." The man said to Sherlock with a smile, he didn't at all seem affected by what Sherlock had done to me. He must be a doctor who specialises in treating slaves such as myself.

 Per the doctors request Sherlock left leaving me alone with the doctor who turned to face me kindly. "I hear you're a doctor as well," He said, "Well then at least you will know what I doing without to much explanation. First we need to get you in the shower to get rid of the blood so I can see what I'm doing then I will dry you off, stitch up your back, then put a clean bandage on you." He said then took a closer look at my nose which I was still holding a tissue to and gestured for me to move it away so I complied. "Nice job on your nose, I assume it was broken?" The doctor asked so I nodded not trusting myself to speak.

 The doctor then helped me up and out of my clothes so I was naked. I was too tired to feel awkward and exposed and the doctor had a calming air around him so I was just as comfortable naked in front of him as when I was when clothed. He helped me into the shower and washed the blood off me. My wounds were still bleeding so to stop it from going everywhere he got an old towel and wrapped in around my waist to catch the blood and gave me a tissue to hold to my nose again. He helped my out the shower and sat me down again.

 "I'm afraid I can't give you any pain killers for this because you are just a slave so bite on this instead," The doctor told me putting a strip of leather between my teeth which I was thankful for. I could have used it earlier because it took everything for me not to bite my tongue but better late then never. The doctor started to sort out by back but once again we reached a problem because I was a slave. "I almost forgot, I'm afraid because you are a slave I can't use any of the normal antiseptics because they have to be saved for normal people with rights, because it is easier to get and has a low cost I have to use hydrogen peroxide." The doctor said to me looking grim.

 "Bleach?" I asked rhetorically through the leather knowing the answer already.

 "Yes, I'm afraid so. So, as I'm sure you know, it will defiantly cause your skin to scar because it destroys skin cells and it will whiten your skin. Now bite the leather tightly because this will hurt... A lot." The doctor said grimly. I nodded glad I had a truthful doctor. His attitude surprised me. He seemed nice, as if he actually cared, and acted sorry for me. Well at least that meant he wouldn't hurt me on purpose. I bit the leather hard and shut my eyes tightly.

 "Okay, three, two, one.." The doctor said and a second later I felt the liquid touch my skin. Without the leather I would have screamed, as it was I cried out into the leather, I shut my eyes tighter but other then that I lost sense of my surroundings. The pain could have gone on for hours or only second but I didn't know because time meant nothing in my mind; only the pain existed in my head.

 Eventually the pain dulled enough to understand what was going on. I looked around at the doctor but he stopped me. "Don't move. I'm stitching up your back so keep biting that leather."

 I did as the doctor said even though the pain had reached a manageable level but kept my eyes open so I knew what was happening. About an hour and a half later I was all stitched and bandaged up. I no longer needed the tissue for my nose as it had stopped bleeding although I still kept some with me just in case it started again.

 Getting dressed I walked into the living room and saw Sherlock lying on the sofa in his thinking position as usual but I ignored him. I wasn't in the mood for his condescending attitude. I walked into the kitchen and made some soup, after everything we had done today I was hungry so about twenty minuets later there was a pot of soup on the hob in case Sherlock was hungry, as my master I had to make sure his needs came above my own, and sat down with a bowel full. Within a few seconds I had eaten it and was feeling bloated. Still ignoring Sherlock I went and sat on the floor next to the sofa and he, in turn, left me alone.

* * *

Over the next few days we barely spoke other for him to give me orders or for me to ask permission to do so. Conversation was kept to a minimal, as it should be between a master and his slave, I was Sherlock's property and not his friend. What ever relationship we may have had before had vanished. He no longer took me to crime scenes so through out the day my only company was Mrs Hudson who was still nice to me. Sherlock and I settled into a comfortable routine where we knew what we were doing so as to avoid conversation. In the morning my alarm would wake me up. I would walk downstairs and cook breakfast, according to the menu we had worked out, I would wait for him to eat before I indulged myself then washed up. At that point Sherlock would either leave for the police station or Bart's hospital, or stay in the living room and wait for clients. I would clean up the house, cook dinner for us both then go to bed. The routine bored me but at least I had something to keep my mind busy. If I had nothing to do my mind would be filled with depressing thoughts of hopelessness. I couldn't escape. I would never be able to get the collar out my head. I would be tracked where ever I went, caught, then probably tortured for running away. I couldn't go to anyone for fear they would get arrested and even if I did manage to run away and stay free I would never be able to settle down and have a family. I was broken in spirit. There was no going back. Sherlock and I would never be able to repair the relationship that we had and in all honesty I didn't want to. He was my master, not my friend, and I didn't want to make that mistake again.

 A few days after Sherlock had punished me Mycroft decided to visit much to Sherlock displeasure.

 "I see you broke the gift I gave you. He may be physically able to do what he should but now he is as boring as ever; you have broken his spirit. I did think it would take a little longer break him but oh well." Mycroft had said condescendingly to Sherlock who kicked him out.

 Other then that and the clients who came in from time to time and Mrs Hudson no one visited and I was getting lonely. I felt as if I was all alone in the world; not that it mattered because I was a slave.

 After a few weeks my back recovered enough for the cheap stitches to come out and for me to remove the bandages. They where only cheap useless things, weren't much use anyway, so it didn't mach much of a difference other then the fact that now I could see damage. A constant reminder that I wasn't equal to everyone else and it still hurt if I moved to quickly or in a way that pulled my back. I barely noticed the weeks passing us by and in no time at all a whole year had gone turning the cuts on my back into scars.

 Sherlock and I still weren't how we used to be but our relationship had improved. I was going to crime scenes with Sherlock, much to the polices disproval, and helping him with cases but we never forgot who we were. I was his slave and he was my master so we could never be friends.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so, so, so sorry for not updating! You have probably all abandoned me by now or hate me for what I did to John in the last chapter. I have been having writers block. Every time I sat down to write I could only write maybe a sentence and the characters were so OOC that I would end up getting rid of it. Also school work has prevented me from doing much but now it's the holidays I have managed to write a chapter although it's not very good, I need to get back into the flow of writing again. Sorry that this chapter is so short but I wanted to update as soon as possible. As always I welcome constructive criticism! Thanks. :D

"Hi," I said as I walked into the living room.

It had been two years since Sherlock punished me for that first dreadful time. Since then things haven't been the same. Every time I look in the mirror I am reminded that I am a slave, I'm not equal to everyone else; I am practically furniture, no I am furniture. The first few months where the worst but this past year things have been different. Every time Sherlock looks at me I see a strange look in his eyes that he quickly hides. It reminded me of when I was a teenager, chasing after girls, a look of lust but restraint.

In the back my mind I pondered what this could mean, does he have a thing for me, is it just my imagination, am I interpreting this the wrong way? If it was only lust then he could take me when ever he wanted because to the world I was little more than furniture; I would become a pleasure slave if my master asked for it and I would have no say, as always. The puzzling thing is that he hasn't take me yet so could that mean he cares about me? These thoughts and more go through my head every time I look at Sherlock but as always I dismiss them knowing even if I was correct, nothing would ever come of it. I was a slave and he was my master; any other relationship would just be wrong. Every time I dismiss the thoughts but before I do I ask myself the same question. Do I reciprocate the feelings? And even though I try not to answer, my reply is always the same.

Yes.

Each time I tell myself I am mad. How can I feel that way for someone who beats me and owns me?

After I spoke Sherlock turned to face me with that look but as always he quickly hides it. He knew it was wrong just as much as I did, although social convention never stopped him in the past so what was holding him back? Society only prevents a relationship. There was nothing holding him back from having his way with me. This was all very confusing.

"Hello John, I don't want anything to eat but feel free to get yourself something." Sherlock said to me turning away.

I expected him to say as much, he rarely ever ate anyway, so I headed into the kitchen to make myself something knowing that if I didn't and my stomach rumbled Sherlock would get grumpy at the 'distracting noises'. I decided against anything complicated or anything would require more then 5 minutes to make. Grabbing a bowl I made myself some cereal, quickly ate it, and washed up so I didn't have to do it later.

The day went on as usual and I stayed invisible like a good little slave. That was until Sherlock got up without a word at the end of the day and grabbed his coat to go out. I followed him silently and ignored the disgusted looks thrown at me by strangers on the street as they notices my collar. I was so used to it by now that I barely noticed them anymore. I was confused when Sherlock walked into a bar and ordered alcohol.

I was so taken aback that I actually decided to speak out of turn.

"What are you doing, Master?" I asked looking at him concerned. Sherlock ignored me. I decided it was not my place and stepped back. Sherlock knew full well what he was getting himself into and I wouldn't be able to stop him.

I raised an eyebrow when he downed his first glass immediately and got a refill but I stayed in my place even though I was itching to stop him.

One hour later Sherlock was completely drunk and I decided that, that was enough. He was so drunk he probably wouldn't even stop me taking him home and stepping out of line.

"Okay, Sherlock. I think you have had enough." I knew I shouldn't call him by him given name but I didn't want to remind him that I was just his slave, that would only make my life difficult.

"Oh hi John," He replying slurring his words, "I didn' know you were there. You were so silent even a teeny tiny li'le mouse would have been lou'er."

The way he said it made it hard for me to stifle a laugh but I managed to contain myself.

"We really aught to go home," I said to him. All I got was a curt little nod from him before he swung himself around and headed to the door. Well at least that was what it looked like he was trying to do but it didn't really turn out like that. He swung himself around and moved one foot forward but he lost his balance and landed on me.

"Alright," I said with a sigh and put his arm around my neck and put my hand on his waist to support him.

I paid for the drinks with money from his pocket and we slowly made our way outside and towards the apartment; I had to practically drag him for all the help he was giving me.

"D'you know the value of pie?" He asked still slurring his words. Before I could do anything he continued, "It's 3.141592653589793238462643..." I knew I couldn't stop him so I let him drone on in his drunken state until we got back to the apartment and into his room.

"Okay Sherlock, time for..." Before I could even finish my sentence he collapsed on the bed and went straight to sleep. Sighing I undressed him and went to leave.

"John," I heard him say behind me. I turned around to reply but he was fast asleep. "John, I love you. Don't leave me John," he continued so I decided to stay for a bit. He would never tell me things like this when fully conscious. 

"Sherlock, I'm here," I said prompting him. I didn't really expect him to reply, he was asleep after all.

"Good John. I wanted to tell you that I... I love you and I have since I first saw you but I ignored  the feeling. Then when you ran away it hurt me, but I didn't know. Then I got angry and hurt you back but I still didn't understand why I was hurting you which is strange because I'm smarter than everyone. Then a little while ago I understood and wanted you but I didn't want to hurt you again. Also being in that sort of relationship would effect my mental capacity, I would have to delete some stuff, not to mention that it would distract me from solving... stuff. I wanted to forget for a little while, just your presence was too distracting." He said unconsciously and rolled over. I heard an intake of breath and though he was going to say something else but then I heard a snore and realised that was all I would get out of him.

I left the room quietly and carefully shut the door behind me not wanting to disturb Sherlock. I headed to my room and sat on my bed in thought. Did he really mean it? He can't love me. For one we are both men but then again when has Sherlock ever done something considered normal. If anything he tries to do the complete opposite. I suppose it is only natural that he would love someone in a way that went against social conventions; even though it is a little bit more normal now, meaning loving another man was no longer illegal but loving a slave on the other hand was. I sighed and laid down; I could think about it more in the morning.

* * *

 

I woke up the next morning and walked into the living room. I was surprised to see it was empty, Sherlock never slept that long. I sighed and made two cups of coffee, tea had less caffeine so wouldn't work as well. I grabbed a mug and went to Sherlock's bedroom.

"Master?" I asked through the door but there was no reply. I rolled my eyes and went inside. "I have coffee." I informed him and was relieved when he sat up and accepted it. A memory of undressing came unbidden into my mind and I felt the blood rush to my face. I very quickly left the room and hoped that he hadn't noticed. He can't have seen that, he has a hang over.

About 10 minute later Sherlock came out of the bed room with his hand up to block out the light. He stumbled over to the curtains and shut them darkening the room slightly.

"My head, John?" Sherlock said and I knew what he was asking for. I walked to the cupboard and pulled out the paracetamol. I turned around to find his eyes fixed on me. Once again I felt my face warm up and I ignored it but I could tell Sherlock noticed, he cocked his head slightly but said nothing. I walked over and passed him the paracetamol. Before I could turn away he grabbed my wrist and looked into my eyes, in my position I knew I shouldn't but I stared back and lost myself in them. I felt my heart beat speed up and suddenly my trousers became slightly too tight. That did not help my situation and I felt my cheeks heat up even more. I could tell he was looking into my pupils to see if they dilated, he did the same thing with Irene and I hoped against hope that my body wouldn't betray me. Of course since when did any of us have control over our bodies to such a degree.

A moment later Sherlock let go and I turned away quickly to make myself some cereal keeping my back to Sherlock in the hope he wouldn't see my erection.

"John, I want you to know that my mind is still better then anyone's with or without a hangover. Even when I'm drunk I live in a world of goldfish so I can certainly tell you are aroused." This was so unexpected that  I dropped the spoon I was holding.

"I-I-I um..." I stuttered unsure of what to say. He walked over to me with a confused look.

"The only thing I don't understand is what suddenly brought this about. I remember everything I said last night so it can't of been something I said or did to bring this about unless..." He droned off in thought then walked even closer so we where barely a foot apart, we were so close I could feel his breath on my face. "You put me to bed. Did I say something in my sleep?"

"You said you loved me, Sherlock," I said quietly, looking into his eyes. It was the first open act of defiance in months but I didn't care. He wanted to know what he said so I told him.

"Thank you John," He said then walked away.

"Did you mean it?" I asked while I still had the nerve, "Do you... love me, Sherlock?" I had my eyes trained on him. I needed to here it.

"WELL?" I asked, almost yelling, storming up to him and spinning him around forcefully.

"Ahhh, could you perhaps be a little bit quieter?" He asked with his eyes tightly shut.

"Well," I started forgetting my place, "I love you," I said at a whisper. I hadn't thought Sherlock had heard but a second later he had closed the little distance between us and his lips were on my mouth.

I felt Sherlock's hand lift my chin up. I was so shocked I froze but he pried my lips open with his and I snapped to my senses. Before I knew it I was kissing him back. I couldn't recall when I decided to kiss him but I was. We both fought for dominance, a battle of the tongue's in a fight; but it wasn't just that. It was a dance perfectly choreographed and beautiful in its entirety. Okay since did I start thinking like that.

Sherlock pulled away and looked me in the eyes. "John, I am your Master but I'm not going to order you to do this. If you want to then understand that I must have control in all things and I will not tolerate insubordination because as soon as you say yes you are mine. I want you completely and this is and will be the only time I will ask."

"Gods, yes" I said and pulled him down to me to show I meant it.

He needed no more prompting. He crushed his lips into mine and I gave into him kissing him back.

"Go into my room," Sherlock ordered.

"Yes, Master," I replied dutifully and headed into his room and a few minutes later Sherlock joined me carrying a bag. "What's that?" I asked curiously and as I expected I was ignored.

Sherlock walked over to me and pushed me onto the bed pinning my arms above my head and kissed me. I kissed him back but reflexively struggled against his grip causing him to lean onto me, completely pinning me to the bed. Being submissive like this wasn't my strong suit and I fought to gain dominance and I could tell Sherlock liked my struggle because as he leaned into me I felt a lump between his legs push against me.

He suddenly broke off from the kiss leaving me breathless on the bed.

"You have no idea what you have agreed to." He said with a really out of character growl.

"Then show me," I said seriously.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning- There will be smut in the next chapter.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ummm... they have sex. That's pretty much it nothing really important happens until the end so if you don't want to read smut then just read the last paragraph.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay this it the first time I have ever published smut on the internet. Feedback it always welcome and greatly appreciated. If there is anything I left out just ask because I have never had sex so this is all from reading other fanfiction. I don't know when the next chapter will be up because exams are coming up in a few weeks and I'm going to be busy. Oh sorry the chapter is so short. Enjoy!

I saw Sherlock smile and get off the bed. I was already missing his warmth and I shivered despite still being fully clothed. My eyes followed Sherlock as he removed his shirt and I felt my mouth hang open when I saw him. I knew Sherlock was doing something like exercise when he went out but I just assumed it was him following a lead or something. His abs where slowly revealed as he undid each button and I felt my mouth go dry.

"Umm..." I said unconsciously and Sherlock smirked. I was sitting up in the bed when he gave me a hard look. I knew what he was saying but ignored him. Sighing he walked over to where he had dropped the bag and went through it. I couldn't see what was in the bag my I felt my cheeks go red as he pulled out two handcuffs. 

"Remove your shirt," He ordered walking over to me. As soon as I had the purple checked shirt off and in my hands it was snatched away from me then my view went black. Sherlock had wrapped the shirt around my head over my eyes blocking out my vision and I was just reaching up to remove it when I felt Sherlock grab my wrists and pinned them above my head. A moment later I felt cold hard metal around each of my wrists a hand cuff was secured around each of wrists then attached to the top of the bed. Wait, there was nothing to secure them to so what were the handcuffs attached to. I felt Sherlock then grab my legs and pull me down the bed immobilising me.

"Sher-Master... What are y-y-you doing?" I asked nervous.

All I got was a little laugh then I felt his lips crush against mine. As always I fought for dominance but for the fist time I lost. I felt him explore my mouth with his tongue claiming me then he pulled away. I moaned in annoyance and felt him smile against my skin. This was a whole new side to Sherlock. Usually he is a condescending jerk but at the moment he is being... nice? Caring?

"Who are you and what have you done with Sherlock Holmes?" I asked with a smile and at that I felt him bite my neck and start to suck. I let out a moan as I felt the pain of the bite mix with the endorphins creating something euphoric that sent my mind crazy.

He pulled away and continued doing this all over my neck and down my chest claiming me as his and no one else's. Then I felt him lean up and come close to my ear. I could feel his breath when he replied.

"I am right here," He stated as if this sort of thing happened every day and he was stating a fact on a case to impress everyone. This sent shivers down my spine and I felt my cock twitch expectantly, I could just sense Sherlock smile at his words effecting me so much. And they did, I was defiantly turned on and I let out a little moan of desperation. This was going way to slow!

"You are impatient, don't forget who the Master is here." He said chastising me.

I replied like the good little slave I was, _sometimes_ , "Yes, Master" although I was surprised when it came out as an embarrassing moan. I felt me cheeks go hot as Sherlock chuckled dominantly. He was the one in control and he knew it. I was helpless to him, I was at his mercy. I was so used to being dominant in this part of my life that now that I have no choice but to be submissive I was falling apart at the seams.

Now my trousers were uncomfortably tight and I was itching to be rid of them but my hands where tied, literally, and I could do nothing but whimper. Sherlock seemed to notice my discomfort because he drew back and I felt him undo my trouser. He was being antagonisingly slow but more infuriating than that was that he was refused to so much as brush my...

I needed him bad, as soon as his hand came close again my hips reflexively arched upward craving his touch but he moved away and a second later his weight was no longer on the bed. I realised it was because he had finished undoing the buttons and the zip and was teasing me. I whimpered again. What was happening to me?

I felt his hand by my ankles as he grabbed hold of my shoes and pulled them off, my socks with them, and as soon as there was nothing in the way he grabbed hold of the bottom of my trousers and tugged them off as well leaving me dressed in only my underwear which where also swiftly removed.

I felt my erection spring free and I had an immediate sense of relief at no longer being confined. I heard the sound of Sherlock undressing also before he opened my leg and move between them. I could tell he was on his hands and knees because his hand were grabbing the sides of my hips keeping them still.

"M-M-M-Master?" I stammered nervously feeling his eyes scan my body.

Suddenly I felt a hand on my cock and a gentle squeeze causing me to gasp and completely harden, I could feel the blood pumping through my delicate member as Sherlock pumped it.

I felt the tip moisten from the pre-come but then Sherlock let go causing me to whimper again at the absence of his hand. The whimper quickly became gasp of pleasure as he took me in his mouth and started to suck moving up and down deep throating me. I struggled against my restraints, not to try to stop him but to try and get at least some control. I wanted to put my hands on his head and hold his hair to control the motion but with the cuffs in place I was helpless. Completely at his mercy. The metal dug into my skin and a moment later I felt something warm slid down my wrists. It took me a moment to relise it was blood. Once that realisation hit me I felt the pain of it, an almost burning sensation starting from my wrists driving up my arm. However the pain felt different, mixed with the endorphins it created a sense of euphoria again even stronger than before and it blew my mind away.

Suddenly I started to feel somthing build up deep inside of me and I realised I was moments away from coming. "Sher...Master, I-I..." I couldn't finish my sentance. My back bowed of the bed and my toes curled. Any moment now... then he stopped.  I whimpered again at his absence and tugged at my restraints causing the cuts to deepen and more blood to flow.

"Oh no, not yet. You are not to come until I tell you," Sherlock said above me and I could just imagine his smug look. A moment later I was flipped onto my front, so my arms where crossed, and my legs where  pushed under me so I was on me knees with my upper body lying on the bed. I felt Sherlock lean off the bed and to grab something and a moment later a wet substance was applied to my opening.

"W-w-what...?" I asked not able to speak properly. I got no reply but I felt something push itself into my hole. I realised Sherlock was preparing me and I couldn't help from clenching. Sherlock tried to force another finger in but I was so tight that he couldn't. He pulled out at me and... growled?

"Why are you making this so difficult?" He said his voice menacing. I didn't sound like Sherlock at all and it took me a moment to understand why. He was so filled with lust that his judgment was being clouded. "It's like you want pain. Fine, I can't wait any longer. You want pain? I will make you scream you bloody masochist!"

His words hit me like a bullet but for the first time I realised the truth in it. Even the small pain from my wrists were turning me on. Suddenly the memory of when I was first punished came back to me. It hurt so much and back then I was so dazed by it I didn't even realise; I was aroused by the pain even then. This realisation shocked me but suddenly a whole load of things in my life now made sense, such as why I joined the army. I tried to look around to see Sherlock but I realised I was still blindfolded. I wanted it off. I needed to see what was happening. I tugged at my restraints making more pain flash down my arms and I felt my cock twitch again.

"I knew it," He said in a deadly tone. I felt the bed move as a positioned himself on the bed. I could feel him lean down to me so his lips where by my ear. "This will hurt a lot," He warned almost nicely but I could hear the sadistic side in his tone.

Slowly I felt him move into me. It was all I could do to keep from screaming. I heard him chuckle behind me.

"You never give up, do you?" He said, then without warning he plunged the rest of the way inside me and I couldn't help it; I screamed. The pain was excruciating but through it all I was still aroused. However limp my member had become, I felt it completely harden again and I shivered with anticipation. This was so wrong but felt so good.

After a minute the pain dulled and I nodded my head to Sherlock to say he could continue. He started to thrust into me, first gently but he picked up speed. Each time he slammed into me I half screamed half moaned in pain and pleasure.

"S-S-Sherlock, I'm gonna... I-I-I'm gonna... c-come!" I stuttered out. I knew he was close to because it just made him pound into me harder.

"SHERLOCK!" I screamed as I came all over the bed. Watching me come must have been to much because a moment later gave his last thrust into me and moan as he spent himself soothing my insides.

He collapsed on the bed next to me breathing heavily. Eventually he undid my restraints and I to collapsed barely even conscious.

"Sherlock... I love you." I whispered. This seemed to shock him and for a moment I didn't think he would respond.

"I love you to John," He said quietly and I knew it was the truth. This was so out of character for Sherlock that I actually laughed. After a few seconds I calmed down and listened out for Sherlock witty remark but none came. I positioned myself on my back and removed the blindfold. I was so tired I could fall asleep but I needed to see him. With a great effort I sat up and looked around.

The bed was a mess. It was covered in blood and semen but I didn't care. I smiled a genuine smile for the first time remembering what just happened and turned to face Sherlock.

What I saw drained the blood from my face and I was filled with fright. As long as I will live I will never get this horror out of my head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I'm mean. I wonder what happened to Sherlock... (*Evil smile*)


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for making you wait so long. I just haven't felt inspired to write. I managed to get a chapter written though, I felt too guilty leaving it the way I did. I hope you enjoy. Sorry if this chapter isn't as good, it's been a while.

_"I love you too John," He said quietly and I knew it was the truth. This was so out of character for Sherlock that I actually laughed. After a few seconds I calmed down and listened out for Sherlock's witty remark but none came. I positioned myself on my back and removed the blindfold. I was so tired I could fall asleep but I needed to see him. With a great effort I sat up and looked around._

_The bed was a mess. It was covered in blood and semen but I didn't care. I smiled a genuine smile for the first time, remembering what just happened, and turned to face Sherlock._

_What I saw drained the blood from my face and I was filled with fright. As long as I will live I will never get this horror out of my head._

Sherlock hadn't said anything more because he physically couldn't. His head was thrown back in a silent scream, his back was arched off the bed, and his eyes were tightly closed. He was in agony. It was then I noticed new blood on the bed; new, fresh, blood spreading slowly from where his hands were. His fists were closed so tightly that his nails were cutting into his skin. Suddenly, what ever weariness I had vanished only to be filled with concern and fear. Jumping off the bed I ran around to Sherlock's side so I could reach and examine him better. 

"Sherlock, can you hear me? SHERLOCK!" I said half in panic. He didn't reply, I didn't think he would but from what I could see there was nothing wrong with him, physically anyway. Despite that I did a thorough check to make sure but I was fairly certain. It was only then I noticed a faint trickle of blood coming out of his ear. There were a number of things this could mean but nothing seemed to fit right. Giving up I left Sherlock's side to find a phone, I had to get help. I had only just reached the door when I heard something change. I turned to look and was relieved to see Sherlock was no longer silently screaming. In fact it looked as if he was sleeping. Filled with a whole different panic I ran back to Sherlock to check, he couldn't be...

"John," He whispered quietly. I wouldn't have heard it if I was still by the door. 

"How are you feeling?" I asked concerned.

"What a ridiculous question, what do you think?" Sherlock said in his usual I'm smarter than you voice but it was quiet and strained. He didn't elaborate any further but I could guess.

"Do you have any idea what that was?" I asked because I had no clue.

"I have a theory but I not sure yet. Don't call for the doctors, that's an order. Just..." He said but he seemed too tired to continue. I knew what he wanted though. I walked over to the other side of the bed and laid down next to Sherlock. I wanted to call the doctors, I had to call for help, but I couldn't, so I laid next to Sherlock and waited until he was asleep to help him myself. It didn't take long. After a few minutes his breathing became even, I slowly moved off the bed to the bathroom to get supplies and walked quietly back to Sherlock. I wanted to wait a bit before I did anything; I didn't want to wake him. I set the things that were needed on the floor and, as soon as I thought I could do it without waking Sherlock, I started bandaging up his hands. He stirred a few times but other than that remained asleep. Breathing a sigh of relief when I was finished I sat on the floor next to the bed and watched Sherlock. The night dragged on but soon it was morning and I could see Sherlock starting to wake up.

"Sherlock?" I asked tentatively. I still didn't know what happened but I needed to know he was okay.

"Mghhh!" He moaned annoyed but opened his eyes.

"I thought I told you to stay in bed next to me," Sherlock said sounding almost back to his normal self.

"How are you feeling?" I asked ignoring his question completely.

"How do you think?" He replied pulling the covers over his head like a child.

"Do you have any idea what..?" I started but before I finished Sherlock interrupted pulling the covers down annoyed before shooting me a glare.

"Of course I have an idea. Didn't I tell you last night?" He said moodily looking at me baffled, as if he were saying 'did you really just ask?' I raised an eyebrow and gave him a look of my own but he didn't elaborate. He threw the covers off the bed and rolled onto his feet. He was unsteady for a moment so I stood by his side ready to catch him should he fall. After a moment though he seemed to have regained his balance because he turned and left the room. I followed without saying a word and watched as he went into the bathroom shutting me out. I sighed realising there was nothing I could do from out here. I turned towards the kitchen and started preparing breakfast. I decided on scrambled eggs and toast, since it was easy, and made enough for the two of us. While I was waiting for the eggs to heat up in the pan I made us both tea. I thought about where things would go from here. It was more than just a physical attraction between Sherlock and myself but it wasn't like we could be in a proper relationship. I decided it was up to Sherlock to work out, and until he did I would continue to behave as a slave should. At least that way I wouldn't get into trouble. The moment breakfast was ready I called for Sherlock.

"Breakfast and tea is ready, Master!" I yelled loud enough for him to hear. Sherlock came out a few moments later with a grimace on his face. 

"The name is Sherlock, and unless we are in public with your collar on show, that is how you should call me." I was taken slightly aback by this. I couldn't help but get the feeling that something had changed. Sherlock walked into the kitchen, grabbed both of our plates before sitting down at the table putting my plate on the table by the seat next to him. "Sit and eat. I can't stand the noises your stomach makes when you are hungry." I hesitated, but only for a second before sitting down. I waited for Sherlock to start eating before digging in myself, something had definitely changed. I decided to ignore it for now but if anything else changed I would ask. I watched Sherlock eat out of the corner of my eye. Usually he didn't finish his food, or eat at all for that matter, but when I next looked over at his plate it was empty. Putting it down to needing energy from last nights activities, I dismissed the abnormality of the act and continued eating. After I finished I washed up and Sherlock assumed his thinking position on the couch. I kept an eye on him while I tidied. I wanted to confront him about last night, about everything, the good and... the bad, but it wasn't my place. I didn't know how things were going to change. So I was keeping to what I knew; being the invisible slave, the furniture. But I wasn't anymore. Sherlock said he loved me. He showed my last night. So what was I now? All these thoughts swam through my head as I appeared to look busy, finding dirt in everything and insisting that it needed to be cleaned. I was procrastinating. I needed to talk to Sherlock, but first I needed to know what happened last night to cause... I looked over at Sherlock and saw him staring at me. Feeling daring, I walked over to the chair by the laptop, picked it up, brought it over to the sofa and sat down in at so I was more on level with Sherlock. I was daring him to say something, willing him to show me if anything had changed. He didn't say a word. He just kept looking at me. 

"Sherlock, I need to know what happened last night." I said to him in a pleading manner. I needed to know, I had to know. If there was something wrong with Sherlock then he had to go to the hospital, or at the very least his brother. I cared for Sherlock, even after he beat me that first time. Granted things weren't the same between us since but I could help but care about him. 

"I have an idea but the problem is proof." Sherlock looked frustrated so I didn't push him. He raised his hands to cover his face and scrunched up his eyes.

"Is it bad, what you think it is anyway?" I asked needing to know. I was edging closer on my seat, I was about to get answers. 

"No, no, no! You're not asking the right questions!" He almost yelled before throwing his legs off the sofa, standing up, and started pacing back and forth up and down the room. I stood to match him but stayed where I was with my arms crossed.

"Well, maybe I could ask the right questions if you told me what the hell is wrong!" I said starting off normal and ending up yelling taking a step towards Sherlock. 

"It's like a micro-chip." Sherlock said turning to me and walking closer. "When we are young we don't understand what is going on, we don't even really have an opinion. We believe what our parents believe, we think as our parent think. When you are young you are not your own person. As you get older these things changed. You start to get your own opinion on things. But the government can't have this. If children can think for themselves then they can start to oppose the natural order of things, slavery being a big issue. We are brought up with slavery all around us, but what if the children didn't agree. 10 years down the line slavery gets abolished because too many people have an opinion. The government can't have this, no, no, no, no. They make far too much money from it. The only way to tackle this is to change how these children think before they become older. So all children aged 7 or over get an operation, much like yours, where a... um micro-chip, gets implanted in their brains to adapt the way they think. Slavery is a good thing they are made to think. Of course these chips are disabled when you are about to become a slave. There is no point having them in slaves because they are not meant to have an opinion anyway, there is nothing that they can do; it would just be a waste of money. Anyway, all things have a fault. The micro-chips are meant to make us agree with slavery and all it stands for, but what if we go against it, even without meaning to, what if someone with the micro-chip loved a slave. Last night I admitted my love to you. The microchip tried to change my mind but failed and broke. While it was trying to change my mind I was in agony, when it failed and broke, it released me. The blood coming out of ear just proves it. I have had this idea for a while but my mind would always be changed, almost against my will, I have looked into it but then was forced to stop. Then I was freed and could think about it all I want. It's the only thing that makes sense. I feel different now. I no longer feel the need to punish you for going against the rules, or to command you to do things. I don't feel like you are my slave anymore, so while we are in private you can act how you want but in public we need to keep up the pretence." Throughout his whole speech I was rendered mute. I couldn't believe it.

"So, um. What are we going to do?" I asked quietly after I found my voice. We had to do something.

"First, I need to see if my brother is aware of what's going on. Come on John," Sherlock said walking towards the door. "And don't forget your scarf!"

 

 


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I owe you an apology. I'm sorry for the lack of chapters, I can't even promise that I'm back. I'm very busy but I write when I can. This chapter may not be the best, I haven't spent as much time on it as I spent on the rest of the story because I wanted to get it up on the website as quickly as I could. I felt really bad leaving it on the cliff hanger I did, this one isn't as bad. I don't think I'm near finishing the story yet but we're getting there. As always, constructive criticism is welcome. I hope you enjoy!

_"I love you too John," He said quietly and I knew it was the truth. This was so out of character for Sherlock that I actually laughed. After a few seconds I calmed down and listened out for Sherlock's witty remark but none came. I positioned myself on my back and removed the blindfold. I was so tired I could fall asleep but I needed to see him. With a great effort I sat up and looked around._

_The bed was a mess. It was covered in blood and semen but I didn't care. I smiled a genuine smile for the first time, remembering what just happened, and turned to face Sherlock._

_What I saw drained the blood from my face and I was filled with fright. As long as I will live I will never get this horror out of my head._

Sherlock hadn't said anything more because he physically couldn't. His head was thrown back in a silent scream, his back was arched off the bed, and his eyes were tightly closed. He was in agony. It was then I noticed new blood on the bed; new, fresh, blood spreading slowly from where his hands were. His fists were closed so tightly that his nails were cutting into his skin. Suddenly, what ever weariness I had vanished only to be filled with concern and fear. Jumping off the bed I ran around to Sherlock's side so I could reach and examine him better. 

"Sherlock, can you hear me? SHERLOCK!" I said half in panic. He didn't reply, I didn't think he would but from what I could see there was nothing wrong with him, physically anyway. Despite that I did a thorough check to make sure but I was fairly certain. It was only then I noticed a faint trickle of blood coming out of his ear. There were a number of things this could mean but nothing seemed to fit right. Giving up I left Sherlock's side to find a phone, I had to get help. I had only just reached the door when I heard something change. I turned to look and was relieved to see Sherlock was no longer silently screaming. In fact it looked as if he was sleeping. Filled with a whole different panic I ran back to Sherlock to check, he couldn't be...

"John," He whispered quietly. I wouldn't have heard it if I was still by the door. 

"How are you feeling?" I asked concerned.

"What a ridiculous question, what do you think?" Sherlock said in his usual I'm smarter than you voice but it was quiet and strained. He didn't elaborate any further but I could guess.

"Do you have any idea what that was?" I asked because I had no clue.

"I have a theory but I not sure yet. Don't call for the doctors, that's an order. Just..." He said but he seemed too tired to continue. I knew what he wanted though. I walked over to the other side of the bed and laid down next to Sherlock. I wanted to call the doctors, I had to call for help, but I couldn't, so I laid next to Sherlock and waited until he was asleep to help him myself. It didn't take long. After a few minutes his breathing became even, I slowly moved off the bed to the bathroom to get supplies and walked quietly back to Sherlock. I wanted to wait a bit before I did anything; I didn't want to wake him. I set the things that were needed on the floor and, as soon as I thought I could do it without waking Sherlock, I started bandaging up his hands. He stirred a few times but other than that remained asleep. Breathing a sigh of relief when I was finished I sat on the floor next to the bed and watched Sherlock. The night dragged on but soon it was morning and I could see Sherlock starting to wake up.

"Sherlock?" I asked tentatively. I still didn't know what happened but I needed to know he was okay.

"Mghhh!" He moaned annoyed but opened his eyes.

"I thought I told you to stay in bed next to me," Sherlock said sounding almost back to his normal self.

"How are you feeling?" I asked ignoring his question completely.

"How do you think?" He replied pulling the covers over his head like a child.

"Do you have any idea what..?" I started but before I finished Sherlock interrupted pulling the covers down annoyed before shooting me a glare.

"Of course I have an idea. Didn't I tell you last night?" He said moodily looking at me baffled, as if he were saying 'did you really just ask?' I raised an eyebrow and gave him a look of my own but he didn't elaborate. He threw the covers off the bed and rolled onto his feet. He was unsteady for a moment so I stood by his side ready to catch him should he fall. After a moment though he seemed to have regained his balance because he turned and left the room. I followed without saying a word and watched as he went into the bathroom shutting me out. I sighed realising there was nothing I could do from out here. I turned towards the kitchen and started preparing breakfast. I decided on scrambled eggs and toast, since it was easy, and made enough for the two of us. While I was waiting for the eggs to heat up in the pan I made us both tea. I thought about where things would go from here. It was more than just a physical attraction between Sherlock and myself but it wasn't like we could be in a proper relationship. I decided it was up to Sherlock to work out, and until he did I would continue to behave as a slave should. At least that way I wouldn't get into trouble. The moment breakfast was ready I called for Sherlock.

"Breakfast and tea is ready, Master!" I yelled loud enough for him to hear. Sherlock came out a few moments later with a grimace on his face. 

"The name is Sherlock, and unless we are in public with your collar on show, that is how you should call me." I was taken slightly aback by this. I couldn't help but get the feeling that something had changed. Sherlock walked into the kitchen, grabbed both of our plates before sitting down at the table putting my plate on the table by the seat next to him. "Sit and eat. I can't stand the noises your stomach makes when you are hungry." I hesitated, but only for a second before sitting down. I waited for Sherlock to start eating before digging in myself, something had definitely changed. I decided to ignore it for now but if anything else changed I would ask. I watched Sherlock eat out of the corner of my eye. Usually he didn't finish his food, or eat at all for that matter, but when I next looked over at his plate it was empty. Putting it down to needing energy from last nights activities, I dismissed the abnormality of the act and continued eating. After I finished I washed up and Sherlock assumed his thinking position on the couch. I kept an eye on him while I tidied. I wanted to confront him about last night, about everything, the good and... the bad, but it wasn't my place. I didn't know how things were going to change. So I was keeping to what I knew; being the invisible slave, the furniture. But I wasn't anymore. Sherlock said he loved me. He showed my last night. So what was I now? All these thoughts swam through my head as I appeared to look busy, finding dirt in everything and insisting that it needed to be cleaned. I was procrastinating. I needed to talk to Sherlock, but first I needed to know what happened last night to cause... I looked over at Sherlock and saw him staring at me. Feeling daring, I walked over to the chair by the laptop, picked it up, brought it over to the sofa and sat down in it so I was more on level with Sherlock. I was daring him to say something, willing him to show me if anything had changed. He didn't say a word. He just kept looking at me. 

"Sherlock, I need to know what happened last night." I said to him in a pleading manner. I needed to know, I had to know. If there was something wrong with Sherlock then he had to go to the hospital, or at the very least his brother. I cared for Sherlock, even after he beat me that first time. Granted things weren't the same between us since but I couldn't help but care about him. 

"I have an idea but the problem is proof." Sherlock looked frustrated so I didn't push him. He raised his hands to cover his face and scrunched up his eyes.

"Is it bad, what do you think it was anyway?" I asked needing to know. I was edging closer on my seat, I was about to get answers. 

"No, no, no! You're not asking the right questions!" He almost yelled before throwing his legs off the sofa, standing up, and started pacing back and forth up and down the room. I stood to match him but stayed where I was with my arms crossed.

"Well, maybe I could ask the right questions if you told me what the hell was wrong!" I said starting off normal and ending up yelling taking a step towards Sherlock. 

"It's like a micro-chip." Sherlock said turning to me and walking closer. "When we are young we don't understand what's going on, we don't even really have an opinion. We believe what our parents believe, we think as our parent think. When you are young you are not your own person. As you get older these things changed. You start to get your own opinion, but the government can't have this. If children can think for themselves then they can start to oppose the natural order of things, slavery being a big issue. We are brought up with slavery all around us, but what if the children didn't agree. 10 years down the line slavery gets abolished because too many people have an opinion. The government can't have this, no, no, no, no. They make far too much money from it. The only way to tackle this is to change how these children think before they become older. So all children aged 7 or over get an operation, much like yours, where a... um micro-chip, gets implanted in their brains to adapt the way they think. Slavery is a good thing they are made to think. Of course these chips are disabled when you are about to become a slave. There is no point having them in slaves because they are not meant to have an opinion anyway, there is nothing that they can do; it would just be a waste of money. Anyway, all things have a fault. The micro-chips are meant to make us agree with slavery and all it stands for, but what if we go against it, even without meaning to, what if someone with the micro-chip loved a slave. Last night I admitted my love for you. The microchip tried to change my mind but failed and broke. While it was trying to change my mind I was in agony, when it failed and broke, it released me. The blood coming out of ear just proves it. I have had this idea for a while but my mind would always be changed, almost against my will, I have looked into it but then was forced to stop. Then I was freed and could think about it all I want. It's the only thing that makes sense. I feel different now. I no longer feel the need to punish you for going against the rules, or to command you to do things. I don't feel like you are my slave anymore, so while we are in private you can act how you want but in public we need to keep up the pretence." Throughout his whole speech I was rendered mute. I couldn't believe it.

"So, um. What are we going to do?" I asked quietly after I found my voice. We had to do something.

"First, I need to see if my brother is aware of what's going on. Come on John," Sherlock said walking towards the door. "And don't forget your scarf!"

* * *

 

"Brother mine!" Sherlock said pushing open the doors to an office and walking in. I followed behind him although not because I was his slave, but because he had long legs and walked quickly. The room was large and ornate with a big desk on the other side with Mycroft sitting behind it, at the sound of the doors opening he looked up from the laptop on his desk. I didn't get a chance to have a close look at the room because a moment later Sherlock started talking.

"Did you know?" He said angrily walking towards Mycroft. Before Mycroft could reply however a woman came running in. 

"I'm sorry, I couldn't stop him..." She started, apologising but before she could finish Mycroft waved his hand and she scurried out.

"I have no clue what you are talking about." Mycroft replied walking around his desk so he was in front of Sherlock. They were no more than a meter apart, both glaring daggers at each other. I just stayed back not wanting to get involved.

"Oh but you do. You know exactly what I'm talking about. The micro-chip." Sherlock said practically spitting at the end. If looks could kill Mycroft  would be dust. The moment Sherlock said the word 'micro-chip' the blood drained from Mycroft's face, his mouth opening and closing as if he wanted to say something but couldn't. He leaned back against the desk and let out a breath of air, almost as if the wind had been knocked out of him. Shakily, he walked back around the desk and sat down. "So you do know." Sherlock said going quiet again and stepping back almost in disbelief. I didn't blame him. "Shut it down." Sherlock's voice sounded final but Mycroft only shook his head.

"I can't." He said quietly, all illusion of him being more powerful and above us was gone.

"Don't give me that crap, you've always boasted about how important and smart you are. If you can't shut this down then no one can." Sherlock said, disbelief written across his face.

"You have no idea what you are meddling in Sherlock. I'm curious, how did yours get disabled?"

"Oh right, I should probably thank you. If not for your gift several years ago, it would still be active." For the first time, Mycroft turned to look at John with wide eyes, before turning to Sherlock.

"You couldn't possibly mean...?" He said droning off at the end.

"How did yours get turned off?" Sherlock asked evading the question. 

"Being whom I am, they decided it best to deactivate the chip so I could give an unbiased opinion on things. They couldn't have my opinion clouded, it would defeat the whole purpose of having me here. Now, even if I tell you to leave this alone I know you won't. I'm not going to help you, I can't, but I might answer some questions." Mycroft said before turning his back and walking back to sit in the chair behind his desk.

"What do you mean, 'you have no idea what you are meddling in'?" Sherlock asked before also taking a seat. I hadn't moved and wasn't planning to until Sherlock called. "John take a seat." Sighing, I did as he said and took the seat next to Sherlock. Mycroft raised an eyebrow but didn't say a thing. He turned back to face Sherlock before replying.

"Only that our entire economy depends on it. The chips get disabled and slavery gets abolished but what then. We go back to our happy lives? No, I don't think so. We make a lot of money from slavery, it is what makes our country strong. People that don't have money and would end up on the streets have a home because they are slaves. Criminals, instead of cluttering up jails they serve the people and the government makes money out of it. Slaves are made to do the jobs that the free people don't want to do and they don't have to get paid, just get given a home and food. You get rid of slavery and suddenly the government is down millions of pounds, the people that made money out of slavery rebel and become a problem, it is just easier keeping the system the way it is. Changing it will make a lot of important people very unhappy." Mycroft said, his face void of emotion.

"You say you can't shut it down." Sherlock said leaving the rest of his sentence to be inferred.

"I can't. I'm part of the government, it would look very poorly upon me if I were the one to break and change our economy. Things always have a habit of adapting, I'm sure something would get worked out if the system were to be destroyed by someones idiotic brother. All they would need to do is steal my laptop, create and upload a virus onto it designed to specifically destroy the micro-chip system, take it to the basement of this building and plug it into the mainframe so the virus can spread. It would be awful if such a thing were to happen, wouldn't it? Of course, they would also need to use someones key card to access the room, they wouldn't steal my card, it would cause too much suspicion. But let's say they went up one floor and stole a different key card. Good thing we have security cameras to catch them." Mycroft gave Sherlock a pointed look, then moved to look me. "It's a two person job, I doubt there would be two people willing to do such a thing. One would have to steal the key card while the other broke into my laptop in order to do everything on time. In about 10 minutes I'm going on a short lunch break so you two should show yourself out. Pleasure as always, brother mine." Mycroft smiled then returned his focus to his laptop.  Sherlock stood up quickly and left the room, I ran after him still processing what had just happened.

"Why is your brother helping us?" I asked struggling to keep up with Sherlock's long pace. Apparently realising my struggle, the man slowed down slightly before answering.

"I assume it's because of you." Sherlock said looking deftly forwards.

"Why...?" I asked then droned off in realisation. It was because Sherlock loved me, there would be no other way to convince Mycroft to help otherwise. I changed topics quickly. "I assume we are going to the surveillance room?" I asked. Sherlock rolled his eyes at my obvious stupidity, which I ignored, and continued onward. After several long corridors and three flights of stairs, we made it to the surveillance room and stood outside.

"John, take your scarf off." He commanded, I didn't even have to think before obeying, it was my job to obey after all. "No one looks twice at a slave. Go in there and knock out the two security guards." Understanding at once, I pulled the door open and in a few minutes the two guards were lying unconscious on the floor. Sherlock dragged me in and shut the door behind us, separating us from the world. There were several monitors lining a desk with two keyboards infront of them. I took a seat next to Sherlock and observed him. He seemed desperate, and anxious, and I could understand why. This needed to be done, but if we failed... Sherlock watched the screens with rapt attention and I watched him, waiting for him to find something. After a moment he seemed to find something and pointed. "Look there John. It's on her desk. Look at the screens and memorise where it is, you need to walk there with no hesitation. Keep your head down and act like you belong. Once they see your collar they won't question your presence. Go, meet me in Mycroft's office." I looked at the floor, it was four floors up, exactly where Mycroft said to go. I took one more look at where to go, shoved the scarf in my pocket, and left the room.


End file.
